


Come Up For Air

by Tafferling



Category: Guild Wars 2 (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Romance, Sharing a Bed, Sharing that bed many times, The Stoic and the Hot-Blooded
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-02-17 11:34:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13076019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tafferling/pseuds/Tafferling
Summary: She's a handful.  And he's willing to deal with that.Sadja Shielding lived her life chasing the coattail of death, one thrill at a time. Boredom, she'd tell you, was the only thing she'd ever truly feared. Least until she signed up to train under one Caiden Voros, a man with about as much temper as a wet blanket held flame. Then things gotcomplicated. Sieges. Dragons. Gods. And not to forget: Love.





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MaverickWerewolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaverickWerewolf/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Tempered Hearts](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12837063) by [MaverickWerewolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaverickWerewolf/pseuds/MaverickWerewolf). 



> This is a collection of off-screen continuations taking place between [Mav's](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MaverickWerewolf/pseuds/MaverickWerewolf) and my Guild Wars 2 sessions. We've been working our way through the story content with our two OCs (Caid is hers and hers alone, and you should tots check him out in her original novel), and things kind of got out of hand really quick. The good sort of getting out of hand. 
> 
> Except very little but wholesome romance in here. There might be the occassional piece of angst and hints of action, but mostly we're channeling feel-good mojo. Since everyone needs that, once in a while. Especially these two muppets who can't tell that they might be way in over their heads.

****

 

The first two chapters can be found over at Mav's:

 

###  [Not Chickening Out](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12837063/chapters/29310531)

In which Caiden had to learn that Sadja doesn't like the cold. Not one bit. And being the forthcoming man that he is, he's agreed to help keep her warm. At this point we'd established that Sadja can't  _not_ flirt with him (or anyone or anything else, for that matter), and is having way too much fun trying to stump him as she keeps toeing the line and teasing him out of his comfort zone. 

###  [Distracted](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12837063/chapters/29311173)

In which Caiden loses himself in confusion over his growing feelings for his partner. Though unknown to Caid, Sadja has had herself in a bit of a pickle herself.

He'd called her bluff the night prior, moving way past her teasing on how they could figure out fitting into a too small hammock. Something she hadn't expected. And worse, something that brought to her attention how he'd slowly become more to her than just a source of quick entertainment. Sadja being Sadja, she ended up doing the only thing she knew how to: Throw herself into every thrill she could find, even if it'd meant almost getting herself killed. 

 


	2. What you having?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "How're you going to celebrate, Voros?"
> 
> Grunt. "With a drink."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This marked the end of the personal story progression, and the death of the first Elder Dragon. We decided to follow Caid through the story, and at this point he's worked his way up the ranks of the Vigil and has taken over a great deal of responsibility within the Pact. 
> 
> And Sadja? She's come to be known as his personal attack dog, one that's never far from his side. Unless, of course, shes found some high up spot she'd like to get to and he hasn't quite caught up yet. Or he's wandered off to celebrate. With a drink and nothing but the night for company.

 

 

 

**What you having?**

* * *

 

**S** adja’d expected to get a lot of things done in her life. She’d had a list, a fairly long one, and she liked to think she’d already made quite some headway striking things off one by one.

Killing a dragon though?

That’d not been on that list. Not anywhere near it, truth be told. Who did that sort of things anyway? Kill dragons (plural, because she thought the smaller ones counted too)— guard whole villages from being overrun by undead—

Save the bloody world?

Not her, no.

Scuffing the soles of her boots over the wooden floor, Sadja shuffled through the door, out into a night flirting with the idea of turning a little too late. The air held a chill to it, and a flick of her eyes up showed a broken blanket of stars with shreds of clouds rolling by.

No, no— not her. She wasn’t a hero, not by a long shot.

Dropping her chin to her chest, Sadja glanced left, where a broad shouldered shadow stood just out of reach of the torches and their warm light.

Him though? Her mouth twitched.

Caidan Voros. Local hero, local stoic son-of-a, and a man so tightly wrapped in what he considered right, that it was difficult to think he’d ever be anything less than the perfect picture of a soldier.

She quirked a brow. Well, alright. He’d shed a bit of that image for tonight, had traded his armour for something that looked almost comfortable, and he’d even adopted a slight slouch. So slight that you had to squint to notice, but it was there.

A moth fluttered by, distracted her for a moment from the straight and wide back turned to her. With a swipe of her hand, she caught the thing, and it kept on fluttering, the fragile wings tickling her palm.

Voros, ever vigil, turned his head just enough to catch her walking up to him. From the right, of course. Sneak up to him from the left and there was a high chance of scowls. His one good eye narrowed a little, thought it did so a little slowly. Sluggish.

He’d been drinking, she noted. Just like he’d said he would. He tracked her with an almost bleary, one sided glance, and only went back to peering at the bottle he held between his hands once she’d joined him by the porch railing.

There was a row of bottles to his left. All empty.

“What are you having?” Sadja leaned towards him, taking great care to have her shoulder press against his arm. Wasn’t like that was difficult to do— it sort of stuck out. His arm. Bit like him, really. All _I’m standing here. This is my patch of real estate, the lot of it._ _Good luck moving me. Harruhmph-grunt-scowl._

He took up a lot of space, that one. From his toes to the tip of his hair— which was about the only thing on him that’d occasionally give up on discipline —and the wide, hard crests of his shoulders.

Voros, the big hero, flinched. Though to his credit he didn’t step aside. Might be he even leaned into her a little, though she likely only imagined that.

When he didn’t answer and only swung the bottle lazily by its neck, she cocked her head up to take a better look.

His jaw was working. Subtly. And a scowl had worked its way up into his forehead. Not a threatening one, no. It was a stranded type of scowl, like he’d been washed up on a strange shore somewhere and didn’t know what to do with himself. But he’d found something odd on that beach, namely her, and his stormy blue eye took a zig-zag hike across her frame.

It was a bit of astonishing how weighty his stare managed to be, what with it only having one eye to work with. Feeling a little small under his gaze— and with a tight knot settling below her navel —Sadja opened her hand to let the moth out. Right in front of him. The thing beat its little wings and danced upwards in a tumble, but Voros didn’t seem to notice. Or care.

_What-you-having,_ she mouthed at him, and right about then the scowl vanished.

His mouth twitched to the right. His brows popped up. One by one his features softened, and just when Sadja thought maybe he’d drunk himself deaf (if that was a thing— she didn’t really know), he kissed her.

He was methodical about it. First, he lifted a hand away from the bottle and instead curled warm, rough fingers around her neck. They squeezed a little. Then his thumb pushed her head aside for a fraction of an inch, a perfectly calculated nudge that made certain he wasn’t going to knock her silly with his forehead.

The kiss itself came with a touch of wetted lips and an almost mournful hum trapped in his chest. Faint, but there, trembling at the edge of her hearing. It tightened the knot in her gut. Seared her from the inside out, and she pulled herself close with a snatch at his belt. Pressed herself flush against him.

His footing wavered and he stepped back, until an insistent push bumped his spine into the railing. And for a short while, he didn’t seem to mind. Not her free hand crawling up his chest until she got a fistful of his collar to pull herself up, or how her leg hooked around his. Not until her hip rolled forward and earned her a startled grunt.

The hand dropped from her neck, snatched the collar of her shirt, and pulled her down. With a thump, Sadja’s heels knocked back onto the ground, and with a couple more thumps, her heart took off in a giddy trot.

A dark blush crept up his throat and he blinked at her, almost like he didn’t quite believe what she’d done— _he’d_ done— and needed a moment. Or two. Or three.

“Amber Ale,” Sadja said.

Voros stared, blankly.

“What you were drinking, Amber Ale,” she repeated and tapped at her lips with the tip of a finger. “It’s nice.”

He grunted, the corners of his mouth twitching up, and Sadja grabbed for the bottle he still held on to with one hand, entirely convinced he wouldn’t mind sharing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter can be found at Mav's again.
> 
> ###  [Still offended?](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12837063/chapters/29466189)
> 
> "How's your head?"  
> She rubbed at it. "Offended, Voros." 
> 
> Sadja fell. Really, really _fell._ And Caid's heart did too, least long enough to figure out she was still alive. Alive and walking, but decidedly not okay. So he made her promise that she'd let him take a look. IT HAS A SCAR SURVEY, JUST FOR ME! I LOVE SCAR SURVEYS, OKAY?!


	3. Dragons 0, Team Voros 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After the Pact airship fleet was destroyed over the lush jungles in the Heart of Maguuma, Sadja thought she'd found something akin to home for a little while. She loved the vast trees. The dizzying heights. And the exhilarating rush of every dive into the air. That glider? The best bloody thing _ever._
> 
> So when Destiny's Edge, good as led by Commander Caiden Voros, brought down Mordremoth, another of the woken Elder Dragons, she decided that she'd like to stay.
> 
> Well.
> 
> Caid didn't quite agree.

**Dragons 0, Team Voros 2**

* * *

 

**A** dding  _ Professional Dragon slayer  _ to her resume hadn’t been a thing Sadja had ever considered. But two out of two, those were some damn good numbers, even for someone who knew about as much about numbers as she knew about dimensional displacement and asura gates. 

So the dragon exterminator (with cheap as fuck rates, since she couldn’t remember ever having been paid) cracked a long, open-mouthed yawn and felt pretty damn pleased with herself. And tired. Mostly tired.  _ Really  _ bloody tired, because far as long ass battles were concerned, this one might as well had stretched on forever. And she’d half expected it to. Either that, or that it’d end them all dead.

Well and alive as she was though, Sadja took her aching, numb limbs across the camp one sleepy step at a time. A bottle of some home brewed concoction swung from one hand, and her rifle was grasped in the other. Both of it she carried into her makeshift hut/shack that’d been cobbled together from downed airship bits.  _ Her’s  _ being just a little inaccurate, since nothing but the gear she carried with her had been hers in a lot of forever. Plus, even this she ended up sharing, what with Voros already having taken up his share of the space. 

Which was a big share, Balthazar take that man. There was barely any space left for her to sleepily prance about.

“No celebrating with the troops, Voros?” Silly question, that. But hey. Her brain had started turning on maybe a quarter of its weary gears, so she was excused.

Ever observant— and her being ever obvious —his blue eye flicked right to the bottle she carried. The brow above it gave a tiny tilt upwards. 

“Celebrating on your own?” he asked, and Sadja snorted.

She pushed the bottle at him. It thumped against his chest. He’d already lost his gear and was all linen shirt and whatnot.  _ Casual Voros, only seen between the wee hours of the day when he’s not chopping down monsters or snoring the world awake. _ “Obviously not. Have a taste and tell me just how horrible it is.”

While he did that— or so she figured —Sadja leaned her rifle carefully against the side of the shack, and with her shoulders creaking and her muscles whining at every move, started getting out of her overcoat. It quickly became painfully obvious that of the last quarter of her working gears, another half had now gone and given up. Spectacularly. Grunting, Sadja found herself stuck with her elbow at an awkward angle and her hand tangled up— somewhere. 

“Here, let me help you,” Voros offered, all proper gent and kind hands. He slipped the stubborn coat from her shoulders, tossed it away, and turned her about to face him with a careful tug on her arm. 

“Hey— where’d you put the—” she started, finding his hands on her, rather than on the bottle, which she’d have rather liked to take a sip out of, but had her words muffled by his lips finding hers. Inconsiderate lips. Inconsiderate and insistent, a far cry from the brief, chaste kiss from half an eternity ago.

Back when they’d killed their first dragon.

Sadja chuckled, the noise tumbling up her throat like a drunk bumblebee. It didn’t stop him though, if anything, she felt the hand that’d hiked up her spine and wrapped warm around her nape tighten a little. Which only stoked the barmy giggle churning in her gut, puffed it up all wild with hot cinders flying everywhere at once.

And  _ oh-hey,  _ he’d come in close this time, his other hand pressed to the small of her back and driving her hip forward.

“I see how it is,” Sadja mumbled into the kiss. On the trailing end she caught his lip with her teeth and gave it a nip, just to make a point. Voros grunted. Or sighed. Or grunt-sighed. Maybe he liked that, she’d have to investigate. Later. She let go and murmured on: “You go around kissing girls only after vanquishing dragons. That must be one terribly chaste life, since last time I checked there weren’t that many to go around.”

Voros breathed out a noise that might have come with a smile. His lips kind of twitched anyway, and so she leaned her head back a little and her eyes up, and met him looking down at her with an alert, and  _ just a tweeny bit  _ mischievous, one-eyed stare.

“Oh, don’t tell me. That’s why there aren’t any dragons left? You’re a menace, Voros.”

“Caid. Just— try it. I promise it won’t hurt.” He still stood very close, a solid wall of tempting heat flush against her. And when she wiggled closer still, her feet shifting where she stood, a warm blush deepened the colour on his neck.

“I did. It doesn’t fit.” She snuck a hand between them to gently tug on his shirt. As if she was setting him up for a parade, getting it all right where it sat on his wide shoulders. “You’re  _ Voros _ , the Pact Commander.  _ Voros,  _ the brave and sta— stro— st—” A yawn worked itself between her and her words, popped her jaw right open.

When the yawn passed and she’d blinked her eyes on straight again, she thought she’d seen a brief smile on his lips. Maybe. Could have been. Damn, she liked him smiling, why’d she have to miss that?

So she gave her hip a bit of a sideways twitch, and his breathing got stuck. Briefly. When he exhaled it came with a rasp.

“I want you to come back to Tyria with me.”

Sadja’s brows rocked up. 

“You do, huh?”

“I do.”

The hand at her back slid an inch lower. Her brow went a little higher still.

“So, that’s the argument you are trying to make here? Because if it is, you’re not being entirely convin—” He dipped lower, snuck the hand around her knee, and pulled her off the floor good as effortlessly. “—ing there, Voros— woah— hey— watch your head—”  Sadja clung on to his neck and squeezed her legs around his midriff as he carried her through the tiny shack. The barmy giggles with its cinders had turned into a bit of a blaze, even if a muffled one for how groggy and tired she was.

Him around her wasn’t helping. Not with either, but definitely not with all that tired that weighed her down. There was an appeal to his arms caging her in as he set her down on the makeshift bed in their makeshift shack— an appeal which went far past the heat zipping down from her navel, the one that got her hip to snap forward and her back to arch. 

And that was a shame, because she’d have preferred to focus on the questing touch of his hands that didn’t seem as horribly undecided on where to land any more. Or on the much more insistent kiss that’d connected again the moment her back had landed on the bed. Well, least he got  _ that  _ part right, the lonely, single gear left in her head informed her. She rather liked him there on top.

Liked that there was very little bit him around her, how every pull of air tasted of him, and how she managed to tease noises from his chest with the buck of her hip against the hard press of his erection. It was almost enough to chase off the slowly settling fog of exhaustion dragging at her. Almost.

But not quite.

Though it was entirely his fault. For slowing down. For stopping just long enough to catch his breath, his forehead pressed to hers and his weight lifted from her so she couldn’t think of how much he seemed to be enjoying himself, considering the general state of his trousers. 

And for wrapping her up in warmth and something gentle that seemed endlessly more familiar than anything she’d known in a long time. 

So when he asked “Sadja?” and nudged at her cheek with his hand, she wasn’t  _ entirely  _ asleep, but getting there. Her fingers curled a little and she hummed, but her eyes remained closed. 

Which was a shame. 

Because she might have just missed a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter can be found at Mav's again.
> 
> ###  [Bloodstone.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12837063/chapters/29589036)
> 
> Team Voros isn't having the best of days. Or rather, here's a lesson not to be on an airship with them, since chances are that _some_ calamity is going to get in the way. After killing a dragon, Caid and Sadja face yet another challenge: Caid's very curious stomach, and their ever growing bond. Oh yeah, and some big ass explosion that wrecked a whole island and scattered bloodstone everywhere. But who's counting.


	4. Right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The previous chapter can be found at Mav's. Have a read to get all the feels!
> 
> ###  [Blindsided.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12837063/chapters/29645451)
> 
> Team Voros has returned to the cold. And they've grown by one member, a dragon hatchling by the name of Aurene. Which puts the number of creatures he tries to keep an eye on up to two, and that's a bother, since Caiden only has one to spare.

**Right.**

* * *

 

 **W** hile the Kodan had little use for all things warm, their frequent guests, the Norn, they did. Despite them making a show of enduring icy climates in nothing but some furs slapped around their buttocks and a pair of boots.  And, fortunately for Voros and her, neither the Kodan nor the Norn were adversed to sharing. A thick limbed Kodan showed them what’d be their quarters from here on out, which turned out to be a large hollow for a room, carved right out the rock buried under tons of ice.  

“Quaint,” Sadja said as she slipped past Voros and into tonight’s den, her eyes flicking about to take it all in. Naked rock made up the ceiling, thought the walls had been covered with panes of wood. Rugs lined the ground. Lots of them. Delighted by that, she kicked off her boots and let her feet feel something soft under them, rather than cold and hard rock.  

There was a single bed. A Norn bed. Pretty damn high and pretty damn big. Sadja smirked. One bed was a good sign, long as Voros didn’t decide to sleep on the floor, since well— he was Voros. He’d done it before, a number of times, but that’d been way back _then_. Before things had gotten all complicated.

When she shot him a look, and noted him sizing up the bed with his one good eye, she thought she saw a ghostly little tug of a smile on his lips.

Nah. He wouldn’t sleep on the floor. They were a good ways past complicated.

“Your nose is still blue, Voros,” she called as she shrugged off her armour. “and you’re shaking. Should get the fire started, no?”

“Is that you asking me to?” His blue eye flicked to her.

“It is, I’ve got something real important to look into, and it’d be a shame if the place was still chilly when I’m done.”

Voros grunted, but made his way over to the oven/fireplace thing in the wall anyway, Aurene trailing him with her tail swishing left and right.

 **T** he real important thing that Sadja had to go investigate, was the sauna adjacent to their den. It was no more than a square box, but ho-boy did she bloody love how it took away the chill and left her _warm._ Once she left it, reluctantly, at that, she was halfway convinced it’d heated up the marrow in her bones. Better yet, a bit of water from a bucket, right along with a bar of scented soap, were up next. They helped too. Once done, she’d even stopped smelling like a thawed pile of sweaty clothes. Especially since she’d left said sweaty rags in a literal pile in the corner and had no intentions of putting them back on. Instead, she wrapped herself in a Norn sized towel, took one more deep breath of the warm air spilling from the sauna, before she slunk back into the main room.

Sadja drew attention there. One of which slipped between her feet with leathery wings batting at her calves, while the other studied her with rising interest.

Voros kept his eye on her the whole time he crossed the room to stand in front of her, though it wandered quite a bit. Up around her shoulders. Down along her front with the towel slung together above her breasts, and along the curve of her hips and the edge of the fluffy cloth where her legs poked out.

In particular there.

He stopped right in front of her. Settled his hands on the ridges of her hipbones, and stared down at her with some deep seated purpose. Because Caiden Voros always had to have a purpose, she’d found out. Right now that seemed to be her, and she could more than live with that.

“Are you tired?” he asked.

Sadja scoffed and climbed the rest of the way up to his lips with a tug on his shirt. How thoughtful of him to have already gotten rid of his armour, sine she wasn’t a big fan of getting poked at by metal while she squashed herself in close. She much rather preferred the solid warmth he carried with him, even if the room had heated up plenty already.

While her kiss went off course, tracing the line of his jaw and finding the hollow his throat, his hands wandered. They were attentive, his hands. A _tiny_ bit shy maybe, hesitating briefly when they slid over the curve of her rump. Aside of that, they were lovely enough.

Though maybe he needed a little encouragement—

She graced his throat with her teeth. Earned herself a sharp intake of air. The fingers on her rump tightened, and when she slid her palm down along the front of his trousers, he exhaled the same air with a jagged kind of growl. All rough edges and a great deal of _want_.

Sadja smirked, hitched her hand up a little. Traced the rather conspicuous swell, and applied enough pressure to snuff out the growl. His hip twitched forward. Not, she wagered, with his explicit say so in the matter.

And then she took one wide step back. His hands fell off her and the heat that’d sprung up between them dissipated.

His brows knitted as he stared down at her, a look that reminded her a little of the half-scowl whenever he found out he’d just run out of food. Sadja swallowed down a laugh, scrunched up her nose instead.

“You smell, Voros. How about you wash up a little? Try the sauna too, it’s nice.”

At first she thought he’d ignore her. Maybe pluck her off her feet and press her to a wall somewhere. Establish that he’d actually paid attention.

That’d be nice. Real nice. She shifted her weight, a sharp slice of heat zipping down from her navel.

“Hm.” He turned his head. Sniffed his shoulder. “You’re right.”

 _Figures he’d listen,_ she thought, equal parts crestfallen and relieved. And then a great deal amused when he grunted, adjusted the front of his trousers, and took the first somewhat shuffling step out the room.

 **S** ince Voros took his sweet time— and Sadja only contemplated peeking about once every minute —she had to find something else to entertain herself with in his absence. Aurene happily obliged. The baby dragon bounded off the dresser she’d claimed as her perch, and chirped and twittered while she explored the room glued to Sadja’s ankles.

It was _odd_. Hanging out with a dragon. A cat sized one, nonetheless, and about as playful as a kitten. One that seemed to adore Voros as much as he adored her.

When he’d still not shown after a few minutes of Sadja and Aurene sticking their noses into drawers and playing tag on the large bed, Sadja rolled off said bed and pulled a box out from under it.

“Pffft,” she complained as she dug into it, tossing Wintersday decorations over her shoulder in search of something less boring. Though a chirp from behind her drew her attention, and there sat Aurene, a string of colourful lights wrapped around her head like a crown.

Sadja’s eyes flicked back to the box. Then around to Aurene again, and she thought the dragon cooed in approval as if she’d just read her mind.

Idle hands and her had never gone well together. They mixed about as well as fire and oil, in particular the easily flammable kind. So when she heard Voros pad into the room, she’d already turned Aurene into a bundle of bright, colourful lights that pounced at his legs, tongue lolling out and big baby dragon eyes alight with glee.

Voros grunted. Since that was what Voros did, though there was a smile edged into the corner of his mouth that warmed Sadja in places that the steam of the sauna hadn’t made it to. A _faint_ smile, mind you. Very faint, but far as smiles went for him, this one might have as well been a laugh.

He’d taken a page from her book coming out of the sauna, and traded his clothes for a towel. The look suited him. Or the lack of one. Sadja stood. Climbed onto the bed. Sat at its edge, and watched him turning about himself as Aurene circled him in a chase after her own tail.

Living life with a sword in one hand, a shield in the other, and odds never quite in his favour, had shaped Caiden Voros into a man built for a singular purpose. Mind and body alike. It’d built him sharp. Built him though and steady, always ready to bear the brunt of whatever’d try to tear him down.

Oh, and _yes,_ so he was handsome, too. A little tattered, maybe. Battle worn. With his scars and the patch carefully secured to cover his left eye. But she _liked_ that about him. Hadn’t ever been much for pretty boys with their skin unblemished and hair slick and clean— except for a distraction here and there when she’d grown bored.

A giddy warmth in her chest told her she wasn’t going to be bored again.

She leaned her head left. Then to the right. Back when he’d caught her eye the first time, he hadn’t meant a thing. Had been nothing more than a past-time to keep the itch away. Dashing in his armour. Intriguing with his silence. _Delightful_ in how he blushed when she teased him.  

Perplexing when he stood in harm’s way for her.

“Get some rest, Aurene. You’ve earned it,” dragon papa Voros told his foster child, with its wings flaring out prettily, and scooped her up to put her back on the dresser. When he scratched at her chin and she almost purred, Sadja thought her mind might have just gone and broken off a piece. That, and the mood that’d clung to her from when she’d felt him harden under her touch, and watched him be handsome in his towel, good as took off to chill outside.

Least until he came to join her. Then it turned right back around.

An almost involuntary smile pulled her lips up slowly and her eyes set to stare him down. Though even while they outnumbered his, he managed to outweigh her anyway. Least until he’d stepped close enough for her to hook a finger into the towel slung around his waist. Then the staring contest broke and his gaze flicked down.

He exhaled. It was an almost strained noise. Uncertain. Sat at a precautious edge. While she waited on one side, on the other was that life that’d built him. Something-something honour and duty and being a good soldier that didn’t— well— just _didn’t._

Well— fuck that.

Sadja pulled herself forward on the towel. Landed the tip of her fingers on the dark line of hair diving out of sight behind the soft cloth. Hiked them, one tickling step at a time, up to his navel. Climbed his stomach. Swept her palm up his chest, more coarse hair tickling her skin, until she snuck her hand around his neck. He’d come down to let her. Gave her reach to splay her fingers out on his nape, to brush them against short cropped hair. It was wet to the touch. A little chilly. Unlike him, all heat and then some.

“I’m still not tired,” she said. Felt a set of fingers press against the small of her back. Bring her a little forward. “How about you fix that?”

A snort. A decisive grab for the towel around her. And a murmur of, “Right.” that sounded a great deal like he’d cracked a smile.

 


	5. Oasis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The previous chapter can be found at Mav's. Very highly recommended before reading this one, since it includes substantial background information.
> 
> ###  [Broken Vigilance](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12837063/chapters/29827944)
> 
> Caid has lost something. Something he's not even known he'd had. Something tethered to Aurene, the dragon with its tight bond to his soul. With nothing but grief and exhaustion left in him, he finally cracks under the weight of a world hell bent on hounding him.

**Oasis**

* * *

 

**S** adja woke to stars turning wildly above her. Which was ridiculous, since stars didn’t ever bloody move. Then the world gave a sharp sideways lurch, right before a patch of grassy ground rushed up to smack her silly.

“Wha— fa— agh—“ she spluttered, her chin scraping on dirt and a thrum of deep seated pain shaking her bones lose. Hot tears stung the corners of her eyes. Blood welled in her mouth, and a burning down the side of her tongue told her she’d gone and taken a bite out of it when she’d hit the ground. 

_ Gross. _

It didn’t end there, and while Sadja allowed herself a couple of labouring, confused heartbeats to feel sorry for herself, her body listed off everything it’d found wrong with itself since she’d woken. Her head’d been shoved into a vice. Her left leg was made of splintered wood, and her spine wasn’t much use any more with how it’d been reduced to molten sludge.

A mellow, low trill eventually drew her attention away from her own misery and got her up onto her elbows. Sort of. Kind of. They were a bit wobbly.

“Aurene?” She turned her head, finding a pair of big eyes dancing in front of her nose and a line of sharp teeth bared at with a low hiss slipping through them. The little dragon ducked her body flat to the ground a moment later to scuttle off with a swing of her tail kicking up dirt. 

That was when she saw Voros.

Slumped over and not moving. 

Bit by bit the last moments of yesterday fitted themselves back together in her head. How she’d been exhausted. How she’d been hurting— correction,  _ was still hurting _ —and how the world had dimmed and dimmed and dimmed until suddenly there wasn’t much world any more at all. 

She’d fainted. 

“Poppycock.” Grunting, Sadja pulled herself up. Easier said than done though, what with how her left leg had found itself a cast made of rope and branches. Her heart squeezed. 

_ Legs don’t tend themselves like that. _ She glanced down her front.  _ Armour doesn’t come off by its lone either and cuts and bruises don’t grow bandages. _ Voros had been busy. 

In many a way it seemed, since she almost tripped over a bottle lying on the ground. It clinked as it rolled off, and she didn’t need to read the label to tell by the sharp smell of alcohol what it was. And that it hadn’t been used to clean wounds.

Not ones on the outside, anyway.

She kicked the bottle away. It skimmed off, only to eventually be taken down by a flurry of white fur and feathers that tumbled off with its prey. Least  _ someone _ in their sorry little group still had some life in them. Bless the owl griffon baby’s tiny heart. Aurene had certainly mellowed down, though Sadja couldn’t blame her. 

The dragon sat a little ways off, her wings drooping and tail straight and stiff. She was staring at Voros. 

When Sadja reached him and got back down on her knees, Aurene trilled sadly from the sidelines. Her tail gave a single, meek swish. 

“I assume you’re still alive, Voros. Since you’ve had the good sense of passing out sideways. But you could have taken off your armour too, you know. Woulda made this—” Straining, she sat him up enough to get to the latches keeping the chain and leather shirt in place. “—a lot easier.”

Sadja realised quickly that getting him out of his armour wasn’t going to be enough. Because it turned out that Caiden Voros truly wasn’t invincible, and the last few days had done their fucking best to prove that to him. 

And her.

Honestly, she didn’t quite know what to make of the painful stir in her gut on being reminded of his mortality.  _ Their _ mortality, really, except hers hadn’t ever bothered her. By all rights she shouldn’t have made it that far anyway, not with how she’d chased the coattail of danger like she ought to just marry it.

Probably wouldn’t have, if she hadn’t signed up with him. For good fun. For nothing but the thrill of it. Instead of finding herself glued to his left, her set of eyes trying to make up for his one missing one, she might have just ended up breaking her neck misjudging a deep dive somewhere. Or gotten trampled by centaurs. Though that hadn’t bothered her. 

_ Hadn’t. _ Still kind of sort of didn’t.  _ Not even a little, Shielding. Not even a little. _

She cared about his though, and that was by far worse.

Grimacing, Sadja got back onto wobbly feet and went to scavenge their camp for anything that’d help her put Voros back together. The man had a skull thick enough to win a head butting contest with an ogre, but gods and dragons and time itself? Different beasts altogether.

Water. Soap. Bandages. And ointments that she’d had to find out he’d almost spent all on her. That’s what she gathered up and dumped by his side and spent a long stretch of the night reaquainting herself with. 

The first wound she treated was the only one still bleeding— a fresh round of puncture marks on his biceps. Suspiciously spaced out like what you’d expect a baby dragon’s mouth to look like. Sadja glanced to Aurene, her brows furrowed and a chiding click of her tongue to go with the scowl. 

“It’s not his fault, you little devil.”

Aurene’s wings twitched. 

“But you know that, don’t you. You’re a clever girl. Clever enough to wake me, mh?”

Another twitch of her wings and a sideways glance. 

“Don’t worry.” Fluffy white feathers bounded in and shouldered into Aurene, who gave an irritated chirp, but didn’t make a move to bolt. “He still loves you plenty. And I’ll fix him up, okay?”

With a throaty little sigh, Aurene dropped her chin on the ground, the fluffy white feathers glued to her side. The griffon had flopped on its back though, its paws grabbing for the night sky.

“I messed up too,” Sadja confessed to the man who couldn’t hear her. Which was probably for the best. “I know I should have said something. But you’d have gotten all worked up over it. Woulda tried to make me stay put. And I can’t stay put, not right now.”

A careful trill drew her eyes up. Aurene had slunk closer and sat with her tail wrapped around her large dragony paws.

“You’d march into the fray, and who’d be there to cover your left flank? You need your little attack dog by your side, Voros.”

Her lips twitched as she lifted his hand into her lap. He had large and heavy hands, hands that came with countless scars and thick, tough skin. Plus bloody and swollen knuckles. He’d banged them up good. Recently. While she’d been out, recently, she thought. 

“That’s what they’ve called me sometimes, your Dragon’s Watch friends. I don’t think they like me very much. Except Canarch. Maybe.”

She cleaned chips of stone from his bony knuckles, dabbing carefully at the wounds with a piece of wet cloth. Once reasonably satisfied with her work on his hand, she moved up along his side and adjusted her seating to something passing comfortable by his head. 

He looked peaceful while passed out. Sort of. That ever present Voros-scowl remained in place as always, though it wasn’t just as hard around the edges as she’d grown used to.

The cloth rode down the bridge of his nose. Then up along his brow, slowly cleaning grime and sweat and blood away. And tears, she noted, her heart wringing in her chest. 

“Gods, Caid…”

She flicked her thumb across the clean lines that’d dug through the dirt on his cheek. Followed it with what she’d hoped was a warm and light kiss, and not an overly scratchy and hard touch of her dry lips. Lingered. 

“No,” said said out loud and sat up. Her hand rested on his chest. Felt the warmth of his skin through the dirty shirt— and steady, strong beat of his heart.

“I don’t give a toss about what happens to me. Me, I’m relatively unimportant. You though? You’re important. You matter. To the world, for one. You’ve done good for it, and you’ve got so much left to give still.”

Sadja’s fingers curled slightly. Clung on to the fabric. 

“Except your life, you hear me? Keep that.”

He’d need help with that though, she figured. Help and  _ rest _ , even if she knew he’d never admit to it when he woke. 

“You’ll be starving once you’re up, mh?” Sadja looked up, out across the quiet sheen of water that spread between here and the settlement huddled in the lush green of the oasis. “So stay put here, okay? I’ll find us something to eat.”

Much as it proved to be a chore to do so. Her bound up leg wasn’t helping the matter, though at least she had her springer to carry her around as she scavenged the oasis for fruit. Which was all well and good, but it wasn’t going to do. Not for her, and most definitely not for a famished Caiden Voros. Just a  _ little _ guilty, Sadja stopped by the settlement, and with a quick swipe from her knife got herself into their food stores to stuff the springer’s saddlebags with provisions. She did leave them some gold though. 

“You’re not gonna tell on me, are you?” The springer chittered, its nose twitching, and Sadja pulled one of its long ears down to give it a rub. “‘course not, since there’s some carrot in it for you.”

Back at the camp, Voros had heeded her words and hadn’t moved an inch. Good. The longer he stayed out, the more rest he got. And the more time he’d give her getting food done for him. 

She built a fire. Gathered water in her pan and boiled the eggs she’d nicked. Nibbled on dried meat that might or might not have come from sand sharks, and diced up vegetables which made it into another pot with plenty of water. He’d be thirsty too when he’d wake. Thirsty and hungry and probably pretty damn hungover. 

And she’d be here. With eggs and with soup. 

Sadja stretched her legs out in front of her, one hand idly stirring a big spoon in the pot.  _ Clink-Clink _ it went.  _ Clink-Clink, _ while the oasis murmured its nightly tune around them. Frogs. Crickets. And off to her side the quiet breathing of the man she’d rather not see die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next:
> 
> ###  [Speeding Up](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12837063/chapters/30496026)
> 
> Caiden reflects on some things he heard - or thinks he heard - while unconscious... and Sadja finally gets to use the hammock for its intended purpose. Or, at least, the one she'd intended for it. Too bad Caiden's still a little slow.


	6. Fall and fall and fall-

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stupid Voros. Stupid, _dense_ Voros. To think he’d stand a chance against a god. To think they both would. To think they wouldn't die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This marks something that- well- I have no words. To clarify: During the Path of Fire storyline of Guild Wars 2, the Commander (in our case, Caiden Voros) is killed by Balthazar, and is thrown into some sort of limbo, some realm of the Forgotten or Lost, I do not quite remember what it is called. There, he forgot his name, just like anyone else, and needs to regain in to be able to move on to the afterlife. However, he's not alone. Sadja too, died, and the game turned her into his little spirit guide. The RP that resulted was hillarious as an orby Sadja tried to help him regain his memory. And, much to both their wonder, stayed with him even in death.
> 
> This is the aftermath.

**Fall and fall and fall-**

* * *

 

 **C** aiden Voros had died.

She had too, but nevermind that, since she’d lived a little longer. Long enough to _watch_ . Watch him crumple, a bloodied, still form swept by fire and ash. She’d screamed his name across the roaring winds, a pitched and cracking _“Caid!”_ that’d been set ablaze as Baltazar turned to pour fire down her throat. Which’d hurt. A whole bloody lot. Like drinking molten rock, she reckoned.

Stupid.

Stupid, dense Voros.

To think he’d stand a chance against a god.

_Stupid Sadja. To think he’d stand one better with me._

She’d cursed him when he’d died, cursed him twice over when she’d followed. And yet she’d howled after him with a burning sort of need, one far removed from the fire that’d killed her. Not like she’d known what she’d been doing back then, nor did Sadja think she’d _ever_ understand. All she knew— all that mattered —was that she’d fallen and fallen and fallen and that she’d found him at the bottom of that pit.

Nevermind how peace had touched her coattail before she’d chased him.

Nevermind she’d left that behind.

_It’d had been boring anyway. You don’t like boring._

Caiden Voros had died. So had she. But they’d cheated death. Somehow. Clawed their way back up. Got their hearts stuttering to life. Weary. Uncertain. Alive though.

Sadja’s eyes cut up, found Voros standing a little off to the side, a stare levelled out across the desert and his hands idly working the clasps of his armour. No, she didn’t like boring, and Voros was everything but. So that touch of peace that’d teased her, that could wait.

“You’re being slow again,” she said, surprised by how little edge her words carried. Almost like her heart wasn’t in it. It was though. Honest to the gods. Except Baltazar... he could go suck a donkey cock.

Voros shrugged, a tiny fraction of a hitch of his shoulders, and so Sadja turned around. Drawing up the rough spun blanket and slipping underneath them, she wondered if she’d dream tonight. Dream of fire, maybe.

_Shame._

She’d always liked fire. Would she let Balta— _Balty—_ ruin that for her?

_Hell no, I’d rather—_

A tug on her shoulder drew her thoughts away from all the things she’d rather do than having one of her favourite things ruined by something as trivial as dying. Then the blanket came away and a warm— warm, because bodies were warm when they weren’t _dead —_ body pressed in close. Very close.

He crowded her against the thin mattress, and there was an insistence in his hands swiping down the length of her that she wasn’t quite used to. Something almost desperate. Greedy. Still kind, but a lot less gentle. And maybe just a little rushed, with how his calloused fingers worked her undergarments out of the way as if they’d done him some great wrong. Or how his other hand had found her neck and clasped on tight. Tight enough to flirt with a sliver of pain.

Not like she minded.

Yet— this wasn’t _him._

Sadja bit his shoulder. Just a nip. Enough for a startled grunt and a moment’s pause. Interrupted him frantically trying to work himself out of his pants. Pants, which, she assumed, had also done him some great disservice at some point. Much like her underwear, they were in the way.

She pushed at his chest. Got her knee up enough to convince him to move, and with a heave, turned him on his back. Another grunt. This one less startled, and just a smidgen annoyed for her audacity to get on top.

Well, _Boohoo._

Voros locked his hands around her midriff. Squeezed. His breathing came ragged and quick. And when his muscles twitched and she felt him trying to flip them over again, she went and grabbed his wrists and shoved them down. Held them, firm as she could, pinned to the left and right of his head.

Grunt.

A bit more desperate now. A bit more needy. A bit broken.

Like the look he gave her, his brows knitted, and a hint of danger in the frayed, hard stare of his stormy blue eye.

She relaxed her grip. His fingers twitched. Her own tightened again. And they played that game for a few rounds. A silent battle waged between rough spun blankets and straw filled pillows, until he breathed out a sight that cracked just a _little_ too much as it slipped from his throat.

Caiden Voros had died.

She had too.

So she knew a thing or two about what that’d done to him. To her. To them.

Sadja slipped off him. Pressed herself flush to his side, her cheek snug to his chest and one hand tightly entwined in his. _Don’t let go,_ she thought and clung to him. Held on tight.

And vowed that she’d fall and fall and fall again if that’s what it’d take.

  


 

  



	7. Nope, no queen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stop.
> 
> Don't read any further.
> 
> Before you keep scrolling, please head over to Mav's. You _have_ to read her chapter first.
> 
> ###  [ Fireworks ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12837063/chapters/35207972)

**T** he fireworks were pretty. Gave the sky colour where there usually was none, painting the dark canopy stretching over their heads with specks of blue and red and yellow and pink and—

“Will you marry me?”

Sadja blinked, and rubbed at her right ear. They were buzzing. Her ears. Buzzing like her heart, which got all worked up over a bunch of words. Might be one of the fireworks had got off track and got jammed in there for all she fucking knew. 

And now she was getting her brain scrambled, because that was about the only thing that explained the sight in front of her.

Caiden Voros, on his knees.

Which really didn’t parse, on account of that man not kneeling. Ever. Well okay, maybe he did for his queen, since that’s what those valiant knights did, but otherwise? He’d stare down a damn god instead of bending a knee, so what the bloody hells? 

Sadja, ears still buzzing, shot a look over her shoulder. Just in case. 

_ Nope, no queen. _

When she looked back at him, the little box in his hand hadn’t moved. Neither had he. Was just looking up at her, that stormy blue eye of his set on her with singular, quiet determination.

He did quirk a brow though. Probably because she hadn’t said a word, but was standing there with her lips slightly parted and the whole world a little lopsided around her.

Her heart beat on harder. A second passed. Two. He'd held his breath. Ceased moving entirely, at least until the cocked brow furrowed. Just a tad. But enough to tell her he’d started worrying. 

Which, in all fairness, was really damn daft.

Sadja let her legs fold under her. Felt the ground bite at her knees just a little too hard maybe, but didn’t much care. Now, at least, things were a little more proper. He was up there. She was down here, snatching the little box from his hand and fumbling to put the ring on while he watched.

When that was done, and she looked back up, he was staring. And breathing. That was important. Breathing in so deep and letting it all out again like a man that'd just come up for air for the first time in forever. Oh. He had a smile on him, too. A smile. An actual smile. That thing that people did when they were looking at something they  _ liked. _ Even if his was sat on a little sideways.

“I was supposed to put that on,” he said. “Not you.”

Sadja blinked. Held her hand up a little. “Want me to take it off again, mh?”

Voros looked at her. At her hand. At her finger. At the ring. His eye paused there, and she thought she saw something heavy settle in it. Heavy, but soft and warm and gentle. “No.”

He flicked his gaze back up at her. Quirked that brow again, the question not needing asking.

“Mh.” She moved closer. Snatched at the collar of his shirt and pulled herself up to his lips. “That was a yes.”


	8. ShitShitShitShit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ShitShitshitShitShit-ohforfuck'ssake-shitshitshit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a little summary to the RP sessions that led up to this ficlet:
> 
> Sadja has been feeling a little under the weather for a while. Which doesn't really help much if you're standing with the Commander, battling Joko and his Awakened with a ragtag army you threw together. But she copes. She deals. Even if she's started to get really annoyed by how her stomach wouldn't keep food down properly, or how riding on Feathers made her turn green and feel seasick. All of that is real new territory for her, and it worries her a little, since what if Voros catches whatever she got?
> 
> ...
> 
> Then she good as breaks down in tears when she sees a baby mountain gazelle with its tiny black button nose and big, fat, round brown eyes- and oh shit. Turns out whatever she got, its not exactly contagious, and Voros isn't about to get it from her. Since. Well. He put it there in the first place.

_**S** hit. _

_ Shit-shit-shit-shit-shit. _

Been a while since they’d turned in. Since they’d left the desert with all its troubles outside.  _ Troubles,  _ being an army of Awakened, and the hunger and fear of the poor sods that’d been caught between them, and the army Caiden Voros had brought with him. To save the world, you know. Since that was the sort of thing he did. Again. 

Was kind of funny how those rickety walls around them managed to keep that all out.

Wasn’t so funny that, no matter how much Sadja tried,  _ shit-shitshit  _ was all that looped in her head. 

_ Shit. Shit. Holy fucking shit. _

She felt sick. Not the sort of sick she’d been feeling on an off the last few days, but the sort of sick that wormed itself through her like a giant, heavy snake. So heavy, it dragged her guts down and her heart, and made it entirely too difficult to breathe. 

_ Shit. _

Was hard to keep up appearances like that, she admitted, so she kind of just of sort of went to sleep as soon as she could— or at least pretended to, snuggled up with her back against the warmth that was Voros. Was even harder to do that. To sleep. To pretend to sleep. To  _ actually _ sleep, and more than once one of her hands wandered down to her belly and grasped tight at her shirt there. ‘cause she’d gone to bed in her shirt. For. Some. Reasons. Couldn’t quite think of why.

Eventually, sleep did come. 

Which ended up giving her shitty dreams, and when she woke, she woke with her stomach wanting up. Not overly graceful, she scrambled away from Voros as quiet as she could, and tip-toe-raced out the small room and into the night to throw up.

Again.

_ Shit. Shit. Shit. _

So this was real then?

She’d not just imagined it? 

Had she— they— them— didn’t fucking matter— Or well, actually, the fucking  _ had _ mattered, obviously— but— 

Sadja groaned, feeling helpless, and wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand.

She’d have to find water. Something to chew on. Something to eat. Something… Her heart kicked. Hard. 

She’d have to find something that’d help. 

Something to solve the problem she’d got herself into. 

Because if there was a thing she couldn’t see Voros ever do, it was to let her be where she needed to be: By his side. No matter what. No matter how often death swiped at him. At her. At them. 

And that life that’d taken root in her now, too.

No way he’d let her.

No way she’d be told no.

_ Shit. _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pop on over to Mav's to see how this continues-
> 
> ###  [ Not Contagious](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12837063/chapters/37043205)


End file.
